


revoked

by stopwriting



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Final Haikyuu Quest, Anal Sex, Aphrodisiacs, Come Inflation, Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, Extremely Dubious Consent, Final Haikyuu Quest, No Aftercare, Non-Consensual Bondage, Oral Sex, Other, Plants, Tentacle Sex, a distinct Lack of aftercare actually, plantacles, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 13:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21458716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stopwriting/pseuds/stopwriting
Summary: The very land of Aoba Jousai is inextricably linked to the demon king, and everything living in it is subject to his will.Or, the one where Iwaizumi is fucked by a plant.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru
Comments: 2
Kudos: 183





	revoked

**Author's Note:**

> hi. its been a while. unfortunately, me and my kinks are still here

He feels Oikawa's protection wearing off as soon as he leaves the palace grounds. Ahead of him, the vast stretch of forest seems darker, more oppressive-- the trail he follows becomes more and more twisted and winding, covered with vegetation until he no longer has any idea where he is on the map despite the fact that he knows these paths like the back of his hand. The sun shines above him through the leaves, but nothing seems friendly or familiar.The trees around him seem darker, heavier. Shadows flicker in the underbrush. The back of his neck keeps prickling, like he is being watched.

_Stop it,_ he tells himself sternly. The last thing he needs right now is to let the paranoia and anxiety take hold.

Iwaizumi sits down onto a boulder, putting his sword and rucksack down. He'd been trekking for two hours, and perhaps a brief rest would re-vitalize him. Making sure to mark where the boulder was, he takes his waterskin and heads down to where he heard running water, looking for the stream that was surely there.

The trail beneath his feet is completely covered now, and in his haste, Iwaizumi stumbles over a thick vine. Getting to his feet, he tugs, and unexpectedly, it tightens around his ankle.

Suddenly, the earth around his feet surges, and vast lengths of dark, writhing vines sprout up around him, thrashing towards him, reaching. In shock, Iwaizumi twists, diving for his fallen dagger but the vines seem to track his movement and knock him across his chest, slithering past his armour and wrapping around his neck. The more he tries to lunge away the more vines reach up to grab him, until he feels them seal around his wrists and ankles.

When he stops struggling for a moment to gasp in several breaths, the vines stop their suffocating squeeze. Iwaizumi holds still then, mind racing while the vines pulse all around him, their grip too strong to be broken. What the hell was going on? He has never encountered anything like this before. The plantlife in Aoba Jousai have magical properties, certainly, but they've never been _sentient_... have they? Is it even vegetation, or are these all extensions of some vast underground creature?

The vines-- tentacles-- _whatever_\-- hoist him into the air. Iwaizumi shudders at the sensation of tendrils crawling up his legs. They seem to sprout from the main tentacles, somehow, and they are snaking their way up around Iwaizumi's calves and tracing the inside of his thighs, leaving long, dripping lines of mud and some more organic secretion. They squeeze a little, clenching around his legs, and the same thing begins to happen to the tentacles holding his arms.

In his rising panic, Iwaizumi jerks, tensing and straining. For a moment, he manages to yank one arm free, but then two thick tendrils burst out of the ground and climb up his back, holding him still at his hips and shoulders. Another tentacle, thick, textured, and pulsating strongly, coils itself around his middle and begins to writhe slowly back and forth, probing, exploring. As Iwaizumi watches, the tip flares out into the shape of a flower, its fleshy petals sticky and broad. There's a tendril in the middle, and it drools something thick and clear from a winking opening. His stomach roils as it smears itself up Iwaizumi's abdomen, chest, and neck before finally reaching the line of his jaw and leaving a wide swath of slick up to his mouth.

Iwaizumi grinds his teeth, pressing his lips shut tightly. He has never faced anything remotely like this. Something is hideously, hideously wrong here, and there's no other explanation other than that he has never had this happen to him before because Oikawa's magic had never_ let_ it happen.

Oikawa.

Iwaizumi feels fury in his gut, and on an impulse, he yells. "Oikawa! Is this you?"

He should feel stupid, shouting into empty air, but the vines still suddenly, as if they hear him. It is all but confirmation of his suspicions.

Bolstered, Iwaizumi renews his struggles. "What is this supposed to do? Kill me? Make me return?" He wrenches at the vines. "Think again! I'm not--ungh!"

The flower next to his mouth thrashes suddenly, and with surprising speed shoves its tendril into his mouth, muffling his words even as he tries to curse. Before he can do more than shout in shock, the meaty petals fold open and lay over his lips, sealing over his cheeks. Iwaizumi chokes, feeling the tendril thicken palpably in his mouth.

Horrifyingly, it _throbs, _and suddenly Iwaizumi tastes a sticky sweet nectar pouring into his throat.

Gurgling in shock and disgust, he tries to turn his head away, coughing hard to keep the slippery mucous out. But the flower petals seal tightly around the lower half of his face, muffling his desperate shouts as he tries to form words around the thick vine in his mouth. The head of the tendril pushes almost experimentally further down the back of his throat, testing the resistance there. When he gags, it slips back a little, and then oozes its gooey liquid straight down his esophagus.

As the goo settles in his stomach, bursts of warmth spreads up within Iwaizumi. Quickly, it spreads throughout his whole body, making his limbs tingle before something suddenly jolts and he squirms with a loud, muffled whine.

More thick, undulating tentacles with blossoming flowers make their way up his legs, sliding over his rear and then between his legs in a way that makes Iwaizumi flinch. They linger there, running much of their length between Iwaizumi's thighs. Worse, the way the other vines are moving, they’re snaking their way past his armour and straight down his trousers.

He gasps as the cool touch of the vines slither down the insides of his thighs, the skin there prickling. The bumps of the flower buds offer a little resistance against the fabric, but then the vines are pushing down right into the space between his legs, and Iwaizumi feels another burst of panic that's immediately muted by the fluid that's still being pumped down his throat.

Two of the flowers nudge up right against his bare crotch, one in front, one behind. He feels the the petals unfurl and cup themselves to his groin, and then Iwaizumi's blood runs hot and cold as they pulse. The tendril of the flower plastered over his crotch recedes as it swallows his cock, but the hole still oozes slick as it began to suck rhythmically, the meaty petals massaging over his hips in a steady rhythm.

A choked whine escapes him as the second flower bud presses up against his ass. _Its_ tendril remained rigid, prodding at his opening. The tip of it a wet mess as it kisses at his hole, getting it slicked.

_Help,_ is the desperate thought running through his head. _I need help. Someone, anyone--_

_\--Oikawa--_

At the thought of his king, Iwaizumi pauses. Was this some sort of sick test? Would Oikawa orchestrate all this just to make Iwaizumi go crawling back to him, begging to be taken back?

Maybe... maybe.

If that was the case, then Iwaizumi won't let him have the satisfaction, no matter what he's put through.

The tip of the tendril pushes into him slightly, and although Iwaizumi feels himself flinch again, his newfound resolve doesn't waver. As if taking its cue, the tentacle begins to probe more deeply, the little drooling opening at the tip sucking and digging right into his entrance.

Bit by bit, Iwaizumi feels himself open up, the resistance in his body sapped away by the nectar. His cock is hard, too, and he's even getting used to the ache in his jaw as the tendril there fucks his mouth slowly.

He grunts, swaying in his bonds a little. Then the tendril finally pushes into his softened asshole with the sensation of a soft squelch, and Iwaizumi shudders in his binds, hard. _Oh, gods. _The vine is pushing up inside him with slow, steady presses, working its way in, pulsating, pouring out more of its own slick as it fucks it into Iwaizumi, probing and stretching at his fluttering walls. Iwaizumi's own cock strains to escape its prison, pleasure from both ends welling up like a tide.

The tentacle seats itself further inside than Iwaizumi would have thought possible. It stays there for a while, not going any deeper, simply throbbing gently and doing a little undulating. Then it pulls out a little, and slowly presses back in. The petals flared and curled as it moved. It repeats the motion, and then again and again.

Iwaizumi hears himself whimper softly. The tentacle is rubbing at the spot inside him that makes his trapped dick twitch. His hips thrust gently of their own accord, unable to move more as they're held in place.

The tentacle doesn't speed up. It just keeps going, moving slowly in and out, until Iwaizumi wants to scream at it.

If there's any doubt left in his mind that this was Oikawa's doing, it's gone now. The only times he's ever been left on the edge like this, is when he and Oikawa fucked. This is exactly how Oikawa likes him: wanting, needy, desperate. It even makes sense that Iwaizumi is gagged; as Oikawa had said once, lovingly. _"Why would I need you to beg with your words, Hajime? Your body does that so shamelessly already."_

After a while, the tentacle inside Iwaizumi picks up its pace. It swells until Iwaizumi is letting out muffled keening noises, and then it pushes itself deeper and deeper into him until its sticky petals are wrapped around his hips, keeping itself anchored against his bucking form. It begins to thrust back and forth seriously, its slick dripping down Iwaizumi's thighs, stimulating places that makes Iwaizumi's hips arch. If his cock wasn't being swallowed and sucked, it would be dripping in sympathy, smearing wet against his belly.

He thrusts his hips forward with a wordless moan, his cock straining in the suction of the flower, his insides stretched wide with the thick, fleshy tentacle that throbs inside of him. He can feel himself being dragged to his release, helped along by the tentacle writhing and thrusting and stretching and fucking inside him fiercely enough that slick is pouring down his thighs, soaking his trousers. The fabric is horribly restricting now; every article of clothing on him seems so as the outline of the vines bulged like grotesque veins underneath. Even his breastplate--what is meant to be protection-- seems like it’s ttrapping him in with the vines.

Behind the seal of the flower, Iwaizumi's mouth falls slack as he feels something inside him bulge, begin to writhe uncontrollably, and finally squirt something thick and warm inside him.

_Warm?_ He thinks dazedly._ How could a plant produce something this warm ?_

It makes no sense, but his mind is fogged and slow with the amount of nectar he's been forced to swallow, and he's distracted again as the tentacle in his ass does not withdraw, but goes still instead. He shudders, staring up at nothing as warm seed flows into him, his entire body breaking out in sweat as it fills his guts.

It's not enough. Fuck, it's not enough.

In desperation, trying to convince _something _to deliver a climax, Iwaizumi tries to shove his hips down onto the tentacle-- but the vines and petals keeping a firm grip on his hips and legs won't let him. It's stopped pulsing now, and such is the girth of the tendril that none of the seed even leaks out, just stays sealed inside him as he moans around his gag.

As if reading his mind, another tentacle squeezes in alongside the first and begins to fuck steadily. Iwaizumi's armored toes curl, and he gasps at the stretch. But it seems to be exactly what his traitorous body wants, judging by the way his cock pulses and the ripples of lust in his mind are turning into waves. The tentacles begin to pound him the way he _needs _it, eclipsing even the pleasure in his dick, his inner walls squeezing uncontrollably, trying to force the vines to knot him and spill themselves inside once more. He's writhing in his armour, the unrelenting metal hard against his torso, but he doesn't care because he's being filled so _well_ and so fucking full, and his hole is squeezing and pleasuring the intrusions, his insides straining to contain everything that's fucking him, and it's-- it's _perfect._

The plant rams up hard inside, and something begins to swell in his entrance, bulging, bulging, bulging, growing until he thinks he’ll break, his raw hole stretches painfully tight around the base of the swollen tendrils. They throb violently, growing, and the pleasure winds him tighter and tighter and tighter as they rub on his insides, forcing out sobs around the vine still fucking his mouth. The tentacles in his ass begin to writhe, as they had before.

The plant comes again, this time in an explosive great tide that rapidly fills up his internal passages. His stomach clenches and cramps as the seed forces its way into him, spurting the thick, hot secretions into him, filling him again. The petals around his cock give one last squeeze, and he explodes in a wave of ecstasy, a hoarse cry ripping from his blocked throat. Tears squeeze out from his tightly shut eyes as his cock shoots his release into the eager flower. His wrecked asshole throbs, his lower abdomen filling with trapped come.

The flower petals covering the lower half of his face twitch. Iwaizumi barely has time to react before the vine in his mouth sticks itself down, much further down his throat than it ever had before, and pumps its own release, his throat bulging with every swallow.

He hangs there, twitching periodically, unable to do anything more as the vines empty themselves into him. Eventually, the flow ebbs. With a wet sucking sound, the flower in his mouth pulls away, and Iwaizumi feels thick, viscous strands of mucous and drool dripping from his open, numb lips.

Almost gently, the vines holding him lower him to the ground, extricating themselves from his limbs until only the flowers remaining are attached at his hole and cock. Iwaizumi moans as the tendril snakes its way back out, and when it's almost at his entrance he manages to call up enough presence of mind to roll himself to his side. With numb fingers, he loosens his belt, hurriedly pushing his trousers down to mid-thigh, right before the petals securing his hips slide limply off, and the flower tendril pulls itself out of him with a disgusting pop.

A torrent of fluids follows its exit, leaving Iwaizumi curled up and twitching, making soft, pained noises as his guts cramp and push out the deluge onto the mossy grass. He feels loose, ruined, and to put his mind off the state of his backside, Iwaizumi grabs at the flower attached to his dick, gripping tight with one gauntled hand and yanks. It comes free, but reluctantly, and he stifles a whimper as his oversensitive dick is exposed to the cool air. Worryingly, it seems milked also to the point of numbness, and in the part of his mind that isn't still reeling from what just happened to him, he thinks that if he never has sex again, it'll be too soon.

The vines have withdrawn completely. Iwaizumi drags his exhausted body over to a root that he can sit comfortably against. He's still leaking, but only a little now.

“Fucking hell.” he mutters out loud. He's trying to be more distressed about what had just happened, but the lethargy and ache in his entire body makes it so he can't quite manage it just yet. Some of the feeling is back in his face though, his jaw no longer aches, and his limbs are slowly regaining strength.

The river. He needs to get to the river, to wash--_everything_, off.

Iwaizumi forces himself to his feet. The come left in his insides shift and runs down his thigh, and he moans at the sensation. Gods, he still feels full-- his stomach didn't have more than the slightest of bulges throughout the ordeal, but it _feels _like he's still brimming with it. His trousers remain whole, thankfully, but they're going to have to be run through several cycles of washing at least.

The worst thing-- the very worst thing is that, whatever the plant's intentions had been... the whole ordeal actually makes him miss Oikawa. It's not that he's never been taken apart so brutally before, it's that Oikawa has always been there to put him back together again after doing so.

He wants Oikawa. Wants his king’s hands in his hair, comforting him, wants Oikawa to kiss away the tear tracks, wants to curl up against him and feel him enfold him in his arms. He could have all that, if he returned to the palace. He could be cleaned in a hot bath instead of a cold river, he could--

Iwaizumi grits his teeth. No. No, his determination will not be so easily broken. Even if Oikawa spits on it by resorting to such lengths again, he will _not_ cheapen his own resolve.

Yanking up his trousers, grimacing at the disgusting wetness of damp fabric clinging to him, Iwaizumi grabs his belongings, and trudges in the direction of the river.


End file.
